


Daddy's Little Girl

by grumkin_snark



Series: Comment Fics [19]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:04:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumkin_snark/pseuds/grumkin_snark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Don’t cry, my little princess. Papa loves you.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daddy's Little Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cozy_coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/gifts).



> Prompt: [Wish.](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/734382.html?thread=97151918#t97151918)

**** Mother never said where Father went, only that he would be back soon, and she believes it. She’s missed him terribly since he’s been away, but she knows it must be for a very important reason, otherwise he would be here with her. He’s never let her down before. Even when Lord Jon’s face would get all scowly as she bounded into Father’s study, even when Mother said he was awfully busy, he would always make time for her.

_What is it, sunshine?_ he would ask, purple eyes sparkling. No matter what, he would take her hand and let her lead him away, to play Princes and Damsels, or to show him the somersault she’d just learned, or to ask him to measure how tall she’d gotten, or to double-team Uncle Arthur in hide-and-seek. Sometimes he would let her sit on his lap as he wrote letters, teach her how to press the dragon signet into globs of hot wax to seal the parchment.

And she loved him most when he would come to sit by her bedside after dinners where Grandfather said things she didn’t completely understand but knew weren’t very nice, and he would kiss her forehead, whisper, _Don’t cry, my little princess. Papa loves you._

So when Mother clutches the baby to her chest and tells her to hide— _Run, Rhaenys, go! Find somewhere you’ll be safe, and don’t come out until I tell you_ —there is one place she knows she can go. She darts into Father’s room and slides under the bed, his familiar smell surrounding her like a warm embrace.

_Papa loves me_ , she reminds herself, over and over in a mantra. She shuts her eyes when she hears the door slam open and thinks, _Oh Papa, please hurry. I’m scared._


End file.
